Friday, August 27, 2010

flash fiction friday #27

i like this flash fiction friday #27 (inclusion) trigger: lush, plush, brush, hush, gush.

rules of engagement:

you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*

if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.

you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.

you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).

you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*

you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).

you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*

write fresh!

walk good.

2 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

Lush, was the only word that came to mind as i sat staring through the bushes, her legs parted, and her underwear off as she sat at the edge of the stream, drinking the good scotch and swaying in the breeze, my eyes plainly seeing her fuzzy hair crowning that triangle juncture of a supposedly secret place. So i wrote it down in my notebook, pondering with my 13 year old mind, why i thought of that word and why it seemed to perfectly fit what i saw.
Once again i heard more than saw a fly zoom by and of course get entangled in my hair. It had good company, at least 3 insects, a few twigs, and maybe the last end of breakfast. I would find out for sure when nursie plowed the brush through my hair later, for she always told me in painstaking detail what she encountered in there. All the while i would be hoping she would just accept i was messy and hush about my daily adventures. Father told me that i was living an exciting life doing these daily walks and it was he who suggested i write all the words that came to mind whenever i spotted something unusual. Nursie once told me that he preferred i write it all down because it saved him from having to hear me gush all of my so called mischievous "getting up to's" to him every night. I did not want to believe her. For why would father not enjoy the time we were spending together in his plush armchair, it was the best part of the day for me, right after afternoon tea, and my daily summer adventures, why not indeed?

12:16 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

forgot to say i was in+done (post immediately above on mainpage).
mystie, didn't see yours until after trigger-time, so new fff next friday...and, nice turn on the promise of erotica.
walk good.

5:39 pm  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

fff#26

shoulda triggered flash fiction friday #27 friday gone as mystie wrote not 1 but 2(!) fff#26 by then, but went balandra for the weekend and didn't take the internet (not that i wanted to, beyond phone for potential emergency) which luckily let me attempt #26 before triggering #27; so, flash fiction friday #26 (inclusion): rack, pack, track, crack, slack

this night the voices rest; singularity of purpose make them cancel each other out, seem like…

me, i just glad for the quiet…go sleep like the dead after the hunt…doh know why i thought t’ings woulda change, like menopause, maybe some kinna mental blood-moon connection ‘cause nobody never tell me anything so, i just come up with the idea somewhere underneath my mind and it stick…some cycles i wish i was right…it would be easier to not need to follow the singing of arteries, easier to not play god…not that god bothering to come out again these nights, any one of we could play god nowadays; wasn’t so slack long time though, god had come like a god it was so omnipresent, but then, every dyslexic dog have they day, eh? as anansi had he time, so god had it own…if this cycle of lunar rebirth would wane like a woman’s…ent i not truly woman again? maybe before the thirst become all, but them days done. now i take my prey when the universe say, drink life as i must…

this quiet inside me tonight make me feel the static in the air building to streaks of lightning, heralding each crack of thunder. nights like this i used to love the hunt, love selecting a healthy meal to follow home and devour as the sky explode, just not the way he expect…i used to use womanly wiles back in times, used to pick the juiciest man to track, separate him from the pack, la diablesse teach me that, make he feel he’s the one who find desire...

these stormy nights with the quiet inside me guiding, a man could rack he whole body with screams when he see my blazing, glorious form release, could call for any god or devil or woman to save he…once i leave my skin and fiery flesh feel the electricity, the current in the air, none shall escape…

walk good.

2 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

i like it...:) it also coincides with my thoughts this week gone on how most every culture has a creature who drinks blood...that is very interesting to me

5:51 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

thanks dude! and definitely funny; i have a post on same percolating for years now, still as draft...walk good.

10:31 am  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Thursday, August 19, 2010

a little funny

language-lover in me had to repost this, courtesy meh mudda in a rare occasion of safe-for-public-email. lemme take in front and say: is not really the joke, yuh know, is the extra @ the end...
on his 74th birthday, a man got a gift certificate from his wife for a visit to a medicine man rumoured to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction. after being persuaded, he drove to the reservation, handed his ticket to the medicine man, and wondered what he was in for. the old man slowly produced a potion, handed it to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned, "this is a powerful medicine, and it must be respected. you take only a teaspoonful, and then say '1-2-3'. when you do that, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life, and you can perform as long as you want."
the man was encouraged, but as he walked away he turned and asked, "how do i stop the medicine from working?"
"your partner must say '1-2-3-4', but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."
eager to see if it worked, he went home, showered+shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine, and invited his wife to join him in the bedroom. when she came in, he took off his clothes and said, "1-2-3!"
immediately, he was the manliest of men. his wife got excited and began throwing off her clothes, and then she asked, "what was the 1-2-3 for?"

and that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition: we could end up with a dangling participle...

walk good.

1 Comments:

Anonymous zed said...

them occasions where her email is safe for public is rare for true eh !!!

12:00 am  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Friday, August 13, 2010

flash fiction friday #26

happy flash fiction friday #26 (inclusion) trigger: rack, pack, track, crack, slack.

rules of engagement:

you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*

if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.

you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.

you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).

you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*

you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).

you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*

write fresh!

walk good.

3 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

Two ideas came i been delinquent so i wrote them both :)



I could feel his eyes track my movements as i sat there waiting for someone to help me. Deep breaths i took, on purpose of course, to ensure my God-given DD rack slowly but obviously moved up and down, hopefully somewhat seductively. I mean really i wanted some service and it was a store filled with males, this should work...i hoped it would.

But only the manager in the back seemed to be aware of my efforts and that slack misbegotten sludge of a soul was not about to move from his comfy chair. Customer service be damned i suppose.

Then i noticed something. There was only one other customer in the store, a sexy 20-ish year old guy who was bent over trying to decide on a belt. He was however, not getting any help either. So where the hell was everyone?

Swiveling my head i finally found all of the clerks gathered in a pack, pushing against each other trying to reach the open doorway. It was at that point the smell hit me, and my head swiveled right back to the man who could not decide on a belt...that was the only place it could have come from, hard to imagine that something so deadly and wickedly pungent could ease its way out of that barely peeping crack.









Sweat beaded down the crack of my own personal front storage rack, as i peered carefully from my hopefully hidden spot behind the shed. I could only hope i left not a single track for the crazy man who decided we were in love now to follow. It started off so innocently, just a small flirtation, basic Trini slack talk, until of course he pulled out his special lil 'pack'. And when i say lil i mean minute, the kinda thing i wanna lend him my tweezers to put back...

3:18 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

in+done @ http://urbanfolktales.blogspot.com/2010/08/fff26.html (coupla posts above this on blog mainpage)...off to read mystie...walk good.

5:26 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

mystie: ah love eeet! both hilarious+unexpected, which i always enjoy...walk good.

5:39 pm  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

robyn a trois

big-up shyamal, wan-ki and mar-from-afar for letting me crash kin sibling rivalry rehearsal for some acoustic+developmental vibes (aye: $ clothes+shoes; tha's all i sayin' allyuh) plus an intro to robyn:
and here's konichiwa bitches, which they wouldn't lemme embed but you should absolutely click+watch, yuh dig?
walk good.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Monday, August 09, 2010

finally, fff#25!

officially the longest i ever take to fff, and truthfully, my sense of competition prompted, somewhat, when i saw somebody else finally wrote this one; not to be outdone...but i also wanted to do right, cause i figure if somebody new wash foot + jump in, the least i could do is have a new fff ready for them friday coming, and i always like to finish the previous one before triggering next, so i pushed myself.
for a variety of reasons,the last becoming apparent to me literally while finishing this draft, this one's a big experiment with voice; wanted to see if i could make a major adjustment over the course of a relatively short piece, for reasons to do with the movement of the piece, and make it not jar, so lewwe see...


the double ten recede further into past tense, rainy-day details now. forward into consciousness from the soup of memory you pace, first only in one direction belying divided intentions, until, enough distance gained, you transition to the recognisable back+forth of a restless mind seeking quiet.

think with your own mind, not the one they lend back to you, stripped of its natural imaginatory resources. pull reason from further back than the double ten, before you accepted the mining of minds as a screensaver for the insidious percolating in the background.

those who mind don’t matter; those who matter don’t mind.

think in your own language, in your natural voice, ‘cause you know the old woman right. you know she right since them words fire from the red-lipstick-cannon of she wrinkled old mouth, cyah stop ricochet between your ears, you cyah squash them like how you do yourself in this place trying to fit in with people who doh know about anything that make you you.

“them that mind doh matter; them that matter doh mind…”

you know she right but the double ten is how you reach this far, the double ten show you how to talk and move and act like somebody who doh get ask no question in this place, somebody who could disappear into the background…ent tha’s wha you want?

you finally face the question you using the double ten to hide from all this time. you watch yourself in your mind and you know the truth and the words stop jockeying inside your head. you coming home to yourself.

you give up the mask to play a mas, to play yuhself.


walk good.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home